Abandoned
by The Lost Playwright
Summary: After the Dursleys became tired of taking care of him, Harry is left to fend for himself on the streets. Learning about Harry's recent disappearance, the Wizarding world is in an uproar and the hunt begins. Both the dark and the light side are fighting with one goal in mind: finding Harry Potter.
1. The Dursleys

**Disclaimer** : _I am not affiliated in any way with the Harry Potter franchise nor the great author, J.K Rowling! This story was just created for fun, not to impersonate the lovely author herself._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: The Dursleys**

* * *

For his entire life, Harry knew he was not just some boy from Surrey.

His earliest memories were that of feeling unwanted by the Dursleys, and everyday, he was constantly reminded of how the same 'supposed' caretakers really felt about him. His uncle and aunt especially favored calling him 'worthless freak,' while his cousin would bully him unrelentlessly. Harry tried not to stand out to the Dursleys and even tried his hardest to be the perfect little boy that the Dursleys had said they always wanted, but strange and unexplainable things always happened to him.

When Harry went to St. Grogory, he remembered trying to tell his teacher that his cousin and his friends were ganging up on him, and that he was tired of just saying nothing about it. But she wouldn't believe him, saying that he was "always the one causing trouble in the classroom." Ever since, she held a grudge for him like everyone else did, because she thought of him as a "liar who always fabricated tattle-tales." One day in class, when she picked on him for an answer, like so many times before, he mumbled and fidgeted out a guess because he could not read the board. She started to scream at him for his inability to read the answer from the board, and he reacted. Or at least he thought he did. He remembered how insignificant he felt at that moment, and the next-his teacher was swearing, but not about him. Her hair had suddenly changed into a bright shade of aquamarine, and she shrieked in surprise while his classmates burst out in laughter. She barked at him to go down to the Headmistress and he begrudgingly went down the hallway, closing the classroom door right behind him. He went into the office with disgust towards himself, and was ordered to sit down on a creaky wooden chair next to the Headmistress while she was writing a venomous letter addressed to the Dursleys. He lowered his head down in shame and he was frustrated with how the events before led him into that situation. It was his fault somehow.

The Dursleys were not amused when they heard of what happened after receiving a very angry note from the Headmistress. Just like the countless of other times where the unexplainable happened to Harry, he ended up in the little cupboard under the stairs while his uncle, Vernon Dursley, usually was the one who locked the tiny scratched door while threatening to starve the boy for several days. The last thing Harry usually saw, were the eyes of disgust, and then it was just him and the darkness. Even just by thinking about it, he got many shudders envisioning the plump and overtowering man throw him in the cupboard as if he was some expendable toy, and he learned that no matter how hard he tried, he would get punishment for matters out of his control.

If it was not his uncle who gave out the punishments, then it was his aunt, Petunia Dursley, who screeched at Harry for his mistakes. It was very common to hear Petunia's voice when the poor boy made a cooking mistake or did not clean to her likeness. If he slipped up, then he expected to dodge a frying pan. This pan was held by a blonde horse-faced woman who had the highest shrill that he ever heard. It was no mystery that the Dursleys had a strong hate for him, but he didn't know how he wronged them. He felt trapped with unloving caretakers that felt pleasure from his suffering. Harry always did try to avoid angering the Dursleys the best he could, but his best wasn't good enough for them: especially when he did something better than Dudley Dursley, his one and only cousin.

So, it was during a hot summer day when Petunia sent the boy outside in order for the entire backyard to be completely eradicated of weeds. There was no school but there was still plenty of work for Harry to do. If even one weed was found, Harry knew he wouldn't get supper. While Harry was weeding, he noticed kids on the street through the cracks of the moss-dotted fence. They were playing the normal sort of games found in Little Whinging; Harry felt the desire to join them and forget the Dursleys. There was a time when he just did that, and he learned to never do it again. Harry remembered slipping past a wide-enough spot in the fence to join those kids, but when he came up to them, they gathered together and started to holler "Freak!" and "Monster!" Not to mention, when he came back, Petunia saw that the garden was not attended to, and in result, he was punished ruthlessly by his big Uncle. Content with not experiencing the incident again, Harry went back to weeding out the garden as usual, sighing as the sun struck against the back of his neck and how increasingly parched he was becoming. However, as much as he was the outcast of Little Whinging and in the Dursley household, Harry did the best he could to keep his head high. Everyone was cruel and out to get to him. It was normal and he could only accept his circumstance in life, but they would never take away his spirit.

Harry always dreamed of running away. This time, however, he had a plan— it was a crude plan indeed, but he didn't know much about how the world worked besides the fact that everyone was cruel to him and he wanted to rid the feeling of shame. It would be only a couple of more days when Harry would have enough meager supplies to make his daring escape. Harry didn't know if he would actually walk away or leave for long, but it gave him some small hope. All he knew was that everyone loved his cousin or feared his cousin enough to stay out of his way, and everyone thought the opposite of himself.

Harry was almost finished weeding, so he routinely as usual gone through the daring plan in his head: he would continue to keep up his nonchalant facade, because while his relatives weren't looking, he would slowly snatch food from the kitchen or raid the bathroom. As long as he didn't give away a whiff of uncertainty, the Dursleys would never think of what Harry was planning to do. However, there was one thing he forgot to account for, and that was Dudley. While he was gathering up all the weeds for a big pile at the corner of the backyard, a shadow started to grow bigger and was headed towards his own. That had to be his cousin, of course. What did he want now? He stopped weeding to turn around but his aggressor stopped him. Harry was thrown into the dirt and he groaned in pain. His cousin ate freely as his father, taking a plump appearance due to snatching the extra meals that Harry never got to eat. Harry felt another explosion of pain and he couldn't get back up. As of now, the 'beach-ball' cousin, strangely out of the blue, decided to treat Harry as a punching bag.

"Argh!"

"Time for some Harry-punching!" Harry could feel Dudley smile before another punch hit him in the gut.

Harry wheezed, what was he going to do? Why suddenly did his cousin come up to him like that? He continued to get pummeled into the dirt while using his forearms to measly block Dudley's throttles.

"Dudley, stop it!" Harry let out a clamor. Dudley tackled him and he was trying to squirm away from Dudley as quickly as possible.

He could give away his advantage by commencing to fight back, but that would end up with him getting locked in the cupboard, and in result, prolonging his stay at the Dursleys. However, also by doing nothing, he wouldn't be able to move by the end and Dudley would blame Harry for something anyways. As much as Harry disliked his narrow options, he threw a punch back at the junior Dudley in defense, and then from then on, it was a contest of who could pull out the most punches in a short time.

The scene must have been loud enough because there was a high-pitch yowl in the house, and that could have come from no other than Aunt Petunia. She stomped into the backyard and narrowed her eyes at the scene.

"You little freak! Get away from my Dudley-kins!" she screeched.

It was a mess of Harry proceeding to get off of Dudley while Petunia was desperately trying to end the fight. In the aftermath, Harry had his glasses broken, bruised arms, and a bloody nose, showing proof of the beating from Dudley's meaty fists while Aunt Petunia was clutching her son.

"Dudley-kins, Harry won't hurt you anymore. I promise you that," Mrs. Dursley cooed to Dudley.

Harry frowned. He thought to himself: what did she mean that he was not to threaten Dudley in the future?

"Get in the house now," she spat while Harry limped into the house.

Then, she threw Harry into the old cupboard and locked him in there. He heard Dudley holler again about how much pain he was in. It was "all of Harry's fault!" They went away from Harry's cupboard and he heard no more. Harry huddled onto his bed wincing in the darkness.

Harry imagined Mr. and Mrs. Dursley telling him the next day not to worry about making breakfast, but only for him to succumb to the rat poison in his food, and then he envisioned the two— and maybe Dudley stuffing him in their small vehicle, driving to a very secluded place. The last he imagined was that of the smirks and cackling of the Dursleys— but that was cut short when he was shaken by the thundering footsteps and roars of Mr. Dursley.

Through the thin cracks of the staircase roof, he heard his uncle coming down the stairs while shouting many nonsensical things. However, there was a clear message in the mess.

"I'm going to make that boy pay!" Mr. Dursley unlocked and opened the cupboard door. There again, was his raging purple-face and Harry at that second was worried that he was going to get a beating.

"We're going! Pack your bag for a long trip!" He roared at Harry, but left him unscathed this time, only by slamming the cupboard door really hard.

He took his hand and searched blindly for an object on the floorboards somewhere near in the tight space. Harry picked up a broken shard of glass and peered into it to assess the damage Dudley did to him. His reflection was lacking in clarity since the glass was so close to his face and because his glasses were broken, however, what he could make out was a broken nose and cut lip, but otherwise, he looked like his usual self: a scrawny little boy with unruly raven hair, a pale complexion, and very bright green eyes. Harry never knew where he got his eyes from, but he always imagined his parents having green eyes just like him. With the little meager supplies he built up from his earlier thievery in a pile behind his bed, Harry left the cupboard with a ragged backpack and proceeded to meet his irate family members. Uncle Vernon looked to have almost worn his patience to nothing, and he quickly snatched Harry and dragged him into the car. Then, with very cold and angry blue eyes, the uncle looked straight into Harry's green.

"I'm warning you boy, if you ever come back here, you'll get what's coming for you. I'll make sure of it."

Harry was frightened and wondered where he was to go, but he could only reply with a voice so small, it could have been mistaken for a whisper.

"Yes sir," Harry gulped.

His uncle either did not hear Harry or did not bother to answer. Later, Dudley and Aunt Petunia got into the car as well, and tried to sit as far from Harry as possible— not to be contaminated by his freakishness. Harry dared to ask with more clarity in his voice. However, the fabricated confidence left his voice some time ago because a wispy voice came out instead.

"Uncle Vernon, if I may ask, where are we going?"

"You freak will see soon."

* * *

It had been an hour since the Dursleys and Harry entered the car and drove off from Four Privet Drive. Whatever the destination was, it was not in Little Whinging and also not even in Surrey.

Throughout the car trip, the Dursleys were very silent and it made Harry Potter very nervous. A million questions were wracking through his brain, such as: Where were they going? What punishment would they bestow upon him?

The boy knew that he was fearful of his fate, and he silently tapped away his foot in agony. Harry assumed that his aunt and uncle were going to revoke their guardianship, but this situation especially unnerved him because he did not listen closely enough to the conversation the Dursleys were having when he was in the cupboard for the last time.

Harry perfectly understood that his uncle and aunt were going to leave him, but still, he had no idea what was their plan. In his mind, Harry played a thought in his head, on loop and unable to think about anything else: 'If only he had more time to prepare before the Dursleys, lack for a better word, dumped him somewhere.' Whenever Harry attempted to ask questions or break the silence, the Dursleys gave him a sneer and their countenances shut Harry up before the words even came out.

Were they going to yell at him? The Dursleys as normal as they tried to be, were definitely not behaving as such in the small car. Even Dudley was immersed in some console, but for some strange reason, never made comments. Whatever it was, Harry knew that he was in big trouble.

"I think this place is good, dear." Petunia Dursley spoke in a light tone, but her face gave away malice. This was definitely not good.

After trying to get the Dursleys to speak, Harry became more confused when his aunt spoke vaguely; instead of helping him, it fed into his wild imagination and made him far more confused than he was before. Vernon Dursley was grinning very widely and it scared Harry, for it was the only kind of smile that showed Harry was to receive whatever repercussion for his 'actions'.

The landscape itself changed from the mundane Little Whinging suburban view, to a rural area dotted with farms, and then eventually switched back to a degraded throng of urban slums and industrial parks. In an empty parking lot, Vernon Dursley pulled up the car and parked. The Dursleys turned all their eyes at Harry Potter.

"Boy, this is where we say goodbye," smiled Vernon Dursley dangerously.

In a few short and measly seconds, Uncle Vernon became more menacing and it felt as if he was growing taller while Harry ever shorter.

Dudley leered at the scene in front of him. He was likely thinking of a conversation to brag to his friends about: how he said 'Goodbye' to Harry Potter, the cousin who was notoriously also known as 'Freak'. Dudley let out his verbal excitement, which constituted along the lines of, "Bye Potter." Dudley sneered at Harry's last name as if it was some repulsive thing.

"If I ever find you in Privet Drive, I'll have your head! Do not dare mention our names ever again, understand me boy? It ends here, and I don't want to see your face again. Take your stuff and go!" His blue eyes burned into Harry, and this time, Harry Potter was thrown a punch in the head.

"Yes, sir." Harry scrambled to get his words out of his mouth. Instinctively, he threw his hand up to where Vernon hit him. It stung.

Harry dashed to get all of his meager belongings and 'brave' the urban slums. This entire day was all complete bollocks and Harry did a small pinch to make sure this was not some great nightmare. Ow. Yes, he was still awake and the Dursleys seemed to have lost it because Harry defended himself earlier that day from a loony Dudley. Harry had all of his belongings in a ragged backpack, the same pack nicked before in Dudley's second bedroom when he was planning an escape. However, Harry was only fantasizing about leaving. Like in the situation he was in right now, he would've thought in the end: 'Where will I go?'

"The Freak is gone!" Aunt Petunia cackled.

The car doors closed and the car pulled out of the old parking lot. Then the wheels turned for Surrey, distancing itself between Harry, farther, and farther away.

Harry looked around while standing in the old abandoned parking lot with true fear in his eyes, while also figuring out how he would survive in the new landscape. He was only ten, about to be eleven in a month, and yet, he had to survive in the urban landscape without a home and no one watching for his well-being. Where in all of the bloody hell was he?

Harry felt the first tear fall out of his eyes. No, he thought. He would not cry but instead figure this out. He always did. Treading lightly and stifling his eyes from spewing tears, he wandered in the alleyways looking for a place to cozy up for the night. The sun was already setting and he had little time to settle in some spot. He walked through old abandoned sections of some kind of city or town. If only his Uncle could have the slightest courtesy to name the city or town he was in…

The green-eyed boy found a secluded spot in some alleyway. Finding an old cardboard box, Harry constructed a makeshift bed the best he could, filled with his blanket and ragged hand-me-downs from Dudley. Looking through his pack, he picked up a bag of chips to be his dinner.

While eating, Harry was thinking— or rather trying to do so. Everything was spinning fast and was out of control. There were doubts and then moments of inspiration. But, he knew that keeping a calm head was the best decision for his survival.

He was ten. He was thrown into an environment where he had to be brave enough to go through such a harsh lifestyle. This meant that he had to trade away his childhood for the perseverance to live— not that the Dursleys did not chip away most of it. He would have to mature, and quick. That was Harry's rationalization. He didn't know the word for it, but he was handling the situation, barely, with a measly coping mechanism.

Why did the Dursleys do something as reckless as this when he could have just been dropped off at some orphanage? Maybe, about twenty pounds would have also not been so bad as well. Grasping more of the situation as best he could, Harry decided that he cannot live in an alleyway for long. If it got colder, he would freeze to death, and on the contrary, he would swelter in the blazing summer heat. There were new things he had to think of and there were ways to temporarily solve the problems at hand.

There was an option left for Harry to decide, and he thought it would be the best solutions to all his problems. Some orphanage. If Harry asked directions, and got a map of wherever in the blazes he was, he could find a way into the orphanage and get help. He thought, "at least they would give me food, water, and shelter." He finished his meal up and curled up into his makeshift shelter.

It was nightfall. The crickets started to sing and the moon felt like a companion to the abandoned Potter. Lights started to turn on and many people were strolling the streets. The abandoned slums were a lit with life once again as people came back from their responsibilities in the daytime. Night reigned and so did the people running amok feel free to do what they wanted. Music was played in the distance by late-night musicians. The bars were open for its eager customers and the smell of cigarette smoke was more stronger than ever.

Harry had a hard time falling asleep due to the busy sound of the urban area and of the lingering painful reminder of what had transpired earlier that day. However, Harry had nothing to do at this point but sleep. It was too dark to explore and Harry wasn't quite sure how the people would react if he went out at night like this.

He rolled himself quite cozy in his makeshift home hoping that the nightmares would not start again; those nightmares never left him alone. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept without terror.

Green light. Cold and shrilling laughter. Screams of a red-headed woman.

These vivid images recently bothered Harry's nightmares. For some odd inkling, Harry thought it had to do with his odd-shaped scar. It made no sense to him why, except that it was the way he felt. It just felt that way. Under better circumstances, it would've been nice if he was only worried about his current condition and unknown future, not also of his nightmares.

Harry did a routine to take off his glasses, only to remember that they were snapped earlier. The glasses did not help so much, as everything was all so blurry anyways. He left them behind in the cupboard and felt no guilt as the pair was too broken to be fixed. He curled more tightly in his den and felt the wash of fatigue catching up to him. The pain returned after the adrenaline wore off, but he was able to zone out.

Sleep overtook him.


	2. The Storm

**Disclaimer** : I am not affiliated in any way with the Harry Potter franchise nor the great author, J.K Rowling! This story was just created for fun, not to impersonate the lovely author herself.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: The Storm**

* * *

Harry Potter woke up in a sweat when the sky had rumbled. He rubbed his eyes and did his normal routine of putting on his glasses, but this time, there were no glasses. The previous events of last afternoon had come back to him and he scowled, remembering where he was and what he had to do. Harry peered his eyes towards the darkness, looking for the outline of entrances and exits of the abandoned alleyway to make sure no one was alerted to his presence during the night. In the dark, he saw some cardboard boxes scattered around, and accompanying them were the squeals and scuttles of rats. The buildings that towered on the sides of the alleyway were abandoned: once as the businesses and restaurants of failed entrepreneurs. From what he heard last night, there were shops not too far; possibly a few blocks away. However, looking around, there was no sign of anyone coming after him, unlike when he was asleep.

For as long as he remembered, he had nightmares and they always played out the same scene. In the nightmare, he saw a red-headed woman scream as bright tendrils of light hurled at her. She then would collapse to the floor in where she became as stiff as a nail. Then, the murderer, with a stick in his hand pointed towards Harry, would be, as usual, the one to cackle and step over the dead body in order to get closer to him. Afterward, there was a green flashing light, another scream, and then nothing.

Not only was he so jaded of the same scene in his head, Harry got tired of his uncle coming in and threatening to "beat out the nonsense in him for his throttling about in the middle of the night." Eventually, Harry left the cupboard at night, being very tired of his uncle's antagonizing mutters, and decided to venture to the back porch to sleep. It was very cold, but Harry was more concerned about his Uncle's reaction than that of anything else. It worked for a while until the neighbors started to complain, in addition to Harry falling asleep during the day in school. Eventually, Harry and the Dursleys just had to come to some understanding—if he could call it that. He was surprised that they hadn't kicked him out just yet, but he didn't understand the incentive of why they did it now in comparison to using an excuse of the more heinous "crimes" that he committed in the past.

Of course, sleeping in some ditch was going to attract the wrong type of attention. Anyone, especially those looking for easy pickings in the alley, could hear him like the Dursleys did. The nightmares were a danger to himself because now, he had no idea who was around—nevertheless that he had no idea concerning his whereabouts. It was very unlikely in this part of town that friendly people would be alerted to his presence, but rather, it was far more likely that the bottom-of-the-mill-type criminals would seek him out. There were bad people out there who would take advantage of him. He knew this, seeing the Dursleys drain his natural tendency for altruism over the years. Strangers? Probably a fate worse than one Dudley or Vernon could have impeded on him.

He squinched his nose in response to the strong fishy smell, likely from the nearby trash bin in the alley, and got up from his cardboard nest. The sky had continued to boom and his eyes widened in a realization that he needed to find somewhere to hide in from the rain.

In the cinereous sky, Harry saw the beginnings of a lightning storm: bright flashes of yellow light erupted in the sky, followed by cold pinpricks of water that he had to shelter himself from. He packed his belongings and looked around for enough cardboard to cover himself. While cowering from the freezing rain, he looked around, under the cardboard, for anything he could use to open the backdoors of the buildings.

 _Pat. Pat. Pat._

At first, he thought that it was just the sound of the rain, but the more he thought about it, it sounded like the stride of no more than a few people walking near. Of course, Harry was well acquainted with the sounds of footsteps when he was living with the Dursleys. The presence was inching ever so closely to Harry and he quickly darted into the pile of cardboard boxes to hide.

Thieves? Homeless? A rabid dog?

Whatever who or it was, it must have heard the disturbance in the alley and wandered to find the origin of the sound: him. Harry wriggled around just a bit to make sure that the cardboard boxes sheltered him from the rain and hid his form. It was his best attempt to delude the strangers into thinking he was not there, and hopefully, the darkness could shield him from them. Holding his breath, he listened.

The footprints stopped. Something or someone was searching for him. The identity or identities of the presence were unknown to Harry, and, unfortunately, he could find no holes to peek through to see the origin of the disturbance. He knew it was human because suddenly there was a light shining on his cover.

"There is no one here. You had too much to drink last night, and I would've been awake if there was screaming. Let's go back to our tents, eh? Nothing exciting really happens in Wickham, you know that," pleaded a wiry voice.

"I don't bloody hallucinate! There be a lad or lass that we can nick from 'round here. Believe me on this one. There's someone out here and I just know it." He had a voice that reminded Harry of Mr. Dursley, and it made Harry hold his breath even tighter. The two stopped right in front of Harry's cardboard contraption.

 _Wickham?_ Harry barely remembered anything about the other parts of England except that he remembered that someone in his class had moved to West Wickham.

"Could it be that the lad is in some other alleyway? It's just the alcohol making you all funny. Besides," the vagabond paused briefly," we could always hit off the market people for some pounds instead. Let's just go," Harry heard from above.

"Let's look at the other alleyway first," the voice insisted, "I only will then take your own adv-you see that? I bet there's a little rascal in that box!"

Harry's heart raced and he heard something brush against his cardboard cover. He cowered waiting for them to find him. He heard the boxes shuffle and froze as stiff as a nail. _I'm dead._

"Mrrraooow!" A cat screeched.

"Bloody hell! My glasses! They are gone! First some scream, and now my eyes because of some loony cat."

"One of us will step on them glasses if we keep looking 'round in the dark with this kind of flashlight. It's probably broken already and it's best not to cut our fingers for a broken thing. We can snatch another one later."

"Fine, I suppose you're right," the voice sighed. Harry heard the two leave the alleyway.

Harry waited until he could hear no more footsteps. When he could only hear the squeals of rats, he came out of the pile and scrambled to find the glasses that the two left behind. He didn't know if it was his prescription, or even what it was, but if it was no better than his normal sight, he would discard it. In the darkness, he felt around in the wet gravel until he found the set of glasses. His hands felt upon a wire framed pair, and he grabbed it for examination. The glasses were intact and likely not too scratched up. He used his shirt to wipe the glasses and to make sure, he confirmed that there were no large cracks, then he put them away for later. When sunrise comes around, he would test them out to see if they were useful.

Warning bells rang in his head, telling him to move. He was in England of all places, and sitting outside in the stifling rain would only be bad news. He shuffled around to find his drenched backpack and then put it on him while he braced against the rain. He shivered, looking around the alleyway for anything to break into the abandoned buildings with. At least, he thought, he could get some shelter and hide away from the two thieves if they come back.

Once he saw nothing of use in the shadows of the alleyway, he walked to the exit and ducked his head in both directions to watch for out anybody. Afterward, he went towards the parking lot where the Dursleys dropped him off. Just seeing the spot where his relatives shoved him away made him clench his fists very hard. He kept at his search, focusing on the task at hand and shoved the memories away. After searching in the dark for a while, he discovered a rusty piece glinting at him, and he thought that he could use it. He picked up the metal pipe and made his way to the nearest door and banged on the doorknob for some time until it finally bolted off. He remembered how Mrs. Dursley wanted to have the "perfect home" and in order to do this, she had someone over to install a more fashionable doorknob for the entrance. Harry watched the man install it when he was stuck in his cupboard. Remembering that there was another contraption in the door, he wrung his hand inside of the hole and messed with the locking mechanism until the door was fully unlocked. Then he opened the door and went in, looking back to see if anyone followed him after hearing his break in.

It was really dusty. This place must have been a restaurant once because he saw lots of chairs and tables with sickly-yellow tablecloths which were messily strewn all over the place. He went to see if there was electricity so he could have some light, but there wasn't any. So, he pulled out his flashlight and went around the room. The windows were boarded up, but besides that, the walls were empty with nothing showing recent disturbance and after looking around in the room, he figured out that there were two corridors. He held on his rusty piece more tightly and dropped his bag near the door to check out more of the place. With his metal pipe in one hand and flashlight in the other, Harry went into one corridor. After going through the small corridor, he opened the door into the kitchen.

Within the kitchen, there were old condiments shelved and a variety of platters and silverware put away, ready for use another day. He opened the fridge and saw that it was empty, and then he turned towards the pantry. Inside were some packaged pasta, and several cans of everything from tomato paste to beans. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he was hungry.

Then he moved on to the next corridor and found the restroom. He turned on the tap to see if it would work, but unfortunately, nothing came out. He would have to find water elsewhere once his own backpack runs out.

So, he went back to the main, spacious room and proceeded to check to see if the thieves came back after hearing him break in and enter. But, there was no one and he was alone.

His stomach rumbled again, reminding him that he needed food, so he opened his backpack and grabbed some chips and a can of soda while he sat down at the entrance of the place, thinking about his past. Dudley was very accustomed to so much junk food that a couple of cans or a bag of chips were not missed, but it was certainly welcomed in Harry's sly hands. Harry was planning on leaving the Dursleys eventually in some far distant future, but that was different than what he would have done. When they dumped him in Wickham yesterday, everything changed. He would have to be tougher and somehow survive as a homeless person for a while. It was brutal, but it was better than living with the Dursleys, and while he was angry that they could get away with this, he was also terrified by the open prospects of being independent and in a way, free. His plan would be to walk far enough until he can see the Thames river, and then he would find somewhere to go in London. Deep down inside, Harry knew that the journey was practically impossible, but he couldn't stay in Wickham either. He couldn't just go to the police, because the Dursleys probably filed a missing person report already, and they'll just send him back with them. He was the black sheep of the family that got into trouble all the time, so no one could possibly believe that the Dursleys dropped him off in the middle of nowhere, and Harry did not want to even imagine what they would do to him if he went back. _I have to keep going, alone it seems_ , he thought.

Done with his breakfast, Harry saw that it was daylight through the broken door and decided to get ready to look for some water. He unloaded his backpack in the bathroom and then and went into the pantry to add a quick snack while he got ready to go out while also grabbing a large bucket from the kitchen to carry with him.

Almost forgetting, he put on the square glasses to test them out. The static noise and warped frosted glass he saw in front of him had, for a good amount, disappeared. It wasn't perfect, having seen a crack on the left eyepiece with a slight blur, but it was certainly better than before. Annoying but manageable, he headed out while making sure the door looked untouched as possible.

Harry walked to the edge of the parking lot, looking around for a hint of where to look first. He saw the street name of his new home, not Privet Drive but Oakwood Street. Harry remembered the road where the Dursleys took off at and decided to head into that direction. The thieves came from the other direction, of where the music came from the previous night, and this was something he wanted to avoid. It seemed like the bad part of town and it was better, in his mind, to avoid it. Perhaps, he could get into central Wickham, or at least a nicer part of it, by following the road that the Dursleys headed out from. He counted on the fact that there would be facilities, like a library or restaurant, where he could collect some clean water before returning to his hideout. As planned before in only a split second, he walked along the flaxen grass with an empty bucket in hand. Few cars passed by him, but when they did, they just kept going. The drivers would only gawk at him and then head off into another direction, and Harry didn't really know if he was grateful or resentful that they didn't pull over. His shoulders slumped in shame of his situation but he wouldn't ask for help. No one ever believed him.

After walking for a couple of miles, Harry noticed that the hot sun was far up in the sky in comparison to the darkness only earlier. As an afterthought, he promised himself he wouldn't get caught up in another alleyway, vulnerable in the open like that. What if those thieves had found him in that moment? It was a stroke a luck, and not a situation he wanted to run into again. He couldn't depend on luck, for who knows when it would've run out? His luck already ran out at the Dursleys and it would have been a matter of time before he would run out of luck on the streets like this. He did not know how yet, but he desperately needed to learn how to survive on the streets. _I need to survive_ , he told himself. Harry drank another syrupy can of soda to stave off the thirst, but it was no real substitute for plain water, and then continued on his long walk while his arm became sore carrying the bucket.

In Harry's mind, people are bad, and this is a simple fact of life. There are four types of people in this world, _scratch that, three_. The fourth category was a fantasy, not a truth. No one was truly kind or cared about him unless they gained something from him or anyone else. He imagined his parents to be in that fourth category, but he really couldn't know: his parents were dead and from what he heard by the Dursleys, his parents were apparently drunks that died in a car crash. He didn't really believe them because they sometimes lied, and he could tell when the Dursleys lied. Mr. Dursley had a temper and at the very least, his uncle's ears would show the pinkish hue of a spoken falsehood, or how Mrs. Dursley would not look at him straight with a sneer on her face. No one belonged in that fourth category; that fantasy was only in Dudley's unopened storybooks from his second bedroom, or on the telly as a hero archetype. His parents were the exception; he needed that comfort and deep down, he knew it. There are _three_ types of people in this world: those who scratch your back if you do scratch theirs, those who ignored you, and those who wanted to hurt you for entertainment, or otherwise gain from your losses. He would do better, he noted to himself, for there were no other alternatives: people were mean, belonging to those three categories-except for his dead parents.

Harry was trying to find a main road, but lost his way and headed into a road far off from where he saw before. He started his journey by walking on dry yellow grass but somehow ended up walking on the sidewalk of some suburban street. He had to be closer, right? Harry figured that he seemed to have ventured into the neighborhood slums as there were houses as far as he could see. He was on a sidewalk right next to the houses, and he was heading in the direction of even more houses.

Then it hit him, a fatal mistake. He realized that he did not take into account that he should have been recording down all the street names he went through, so he could get back. He wasn't even sure if he could return to his hideout now, and that made him really nervous. He generally knew that his hideout, along with his stuff, was back behind him somewhere in Oakwood Street. _Stupid, Potter._

There was only one way to go now, and that was forward. Since he acted, he might as well continue with his course of action. Eventually, his feet were starting to hurt from the amount of walking, and he certainly had no idea where to go. Therefore, he had to stop somewhere, but he was concerned with ending up in a situation much worse than the last encounter he had with those two men in the morning. He promised himself, not to get into another situation like that.

Harry shook away his worrisome thoughts. He assured to himself that he would persevere and find a way out and would only focus on the current objective, which was to get water from the town somehow. Then he'll worry about getting back by finding some map. He just had to make it through and avoid the dangerous people: the muggers, the violent types, and especially those who would bring him back to the Dursleys. There were only three types of people in this world, after all.

Several hours had passed, and Harry was more tired than even in the first miles he walked. Still very determined, he walked and walked, following the road looking for signs, that he would go into the middle of town. The sun was high in the sky and it burned straight on his neck and back, cooking him like a lobster. He had sweat pooling down on his back and forehead, and eventually, he became so bored that he started to count how many weeds were coming up from the cracked pavement. The sidewalk seemed endless and Harry didn't really know what he was doing any more, with the street names he actually started paying attention to, bleeding into one and another, disorientating him further.

After walking for a while, Harry noticed that a police car had entered the street. The Dursleys always had a bad name for the police. They threatened that if he ever ran away, the police would do horrible things to him, and then bring him right back. The cops on TV did not seem friendly as well so Harry, either way, did not want to cross paths with them. However, it would be a red herring if he immediately just started running so he didn't know whether to run or ignore the officers. He walked a little faster in hopes they would just move on, like the rest of the others. The police car swerved to Harry then slowed down, at Harry's walking pace. The window of the police car slid down and Harry craned his neck at the car.

"Hey kid, what are you doing out there?" Harry was surprised that the police officer had an American accent.

Harry did not say anything for a brief moment. He was afraid and hadn't had many dealings with the police before, except for their reputation by the word of Vernon Dursley. Who would believe that the Dursleys dumped him in the London area, and what could the police do besides send him back? Harry could try, but he was not going to full-heartily hope that his adventure could be believable to the men in the vehicle, besides, they were the bad type. It was better to just continue on his journey to get water and get back to his stuff, skirting around the Police muddling in it all.

"Walking to the middle of town," Harry answered honestly. He turned around to face the two men in the police car.

"Chap, I'm afraid you're heading in the wrong direction then. Not a local?" The other police officer in the vehicle spoke up. His tone of voice hinted that he thought Harry was joking with him.

"Yes, well, I'll best be on my way then," Harry scowled. He turned away from the policemen and continued to walk.

The policemen would not believe him and are jeering at him now! What do they want to do with Harry in the first place? He clutched his backpack and bucket closer to his body.

"Kid, why are you walking alone? Do your parents live close?" The American had shown concern. The policemen started their vehicle again and steered towards Harry.

"Why can't I walk where I want to go? I'm not messing with anyone's lawn or anything like that." Harry stopped again and faced towards the car. Now, he was getting annoyed.

The car stopped right next to Harry. "Who is taking care of you?" asked the American.

"My aunt," lied Harry.

"Chap, come with us, and we can take you to her," the other police officer spoken up once again.

"Why? I can just walk back. Am I causing some problem, officer?" Harry craned his stiff neck to side.

"Come clean, kid. We know you're a runaway, carrying a bucket like that. It's best to just come in the car with us, nice and easy."

He was tired, dirty, and was running out of the water. However, he also didn't want to go back to the Dursleys. The American motioned to Harry to come in the back but Harry had another idea. He made a dash for it, dropping his things, running towards a nearby house and climbed the terrace.

"Hey!"

He clumsily went across the yard and climbed some more fence to make it to the next street and figure out a way to hide. Unfortunately, the house owner was suntanning in the backyard and hollered about "a boy in the yard." The police would catch up if he didn't move fast enough and he can already hear the sirens going off.

Harry decided to go through another street so he could make the cops lose their trail. He climbed another fence, more slowly this time from exhaustion, and decided to hastily hide in the bushes of the backyard. He was catching his breath when he heard the policemen enter the backyard.

"Come out wherever you are!" Harry shuddered from the adrenaline.

He heard the policemen shuffle in the yard and then they found Harry crouched in a ball deep within the bushes. They almost would've moved on if it were not for a twig that snapped.

"Found you." The English police officer grabbed Harry, carefully maneuvering around the thorny branches and put handcuffs on him. Harry tried to shake him off with his bruised arms, getting sliced a bit by the thicket, but the taller man quickly overpowered him.

"We're going to the station, nice and easy," the American puffed.

They escorted the reluctant green-eyed boy to the vehicle and opened the car door, then shoved him in the back. Closing the door, Harry noticed that he was sitting in the place of law breakers. In the middle of the car were thick steel bars to keep the incarcerated from harming their enforcers. He couldn't put into words how angry he was, _damn the stupid police_. He kicked the metal bars hard in seething anger. _No! I'm not going back there!_

The English Policeman turned on the radio to drown out Harry's attempts at escaping the vehicle. Eventually, Harry stopped and sat there, realizing that his bucket and backpack was thrown in the boot of the car. Huh, at least the important stuff was with him. The officer had given a lecture to his co-worker about how Led Zeppelin is such a wonderful band while the American insisted on claiming it was really the Beatles. During this jabbering about which rock band was better, Harry zoned out to his thoughts. His adrenaline wore down and he realized during the chase, he got more than some bush scratches. He had a gash on his leg and a stub toe, and while he felt nothing during the escape, it became bothersome now, lingering at the back of his head as a minor annoyance.

The cops kept bantering back and forth while ignoring Harry. What could they say, even if they wanted to? He was already a criminal in their eyes, and deep down inside him, there was a nagging, persistent feeling that could not be pushed away. Harry was trying to not admit that he was nervous, a forbidden thought in his quest for survival. Harry just wanted to feel safe in his new hideout, and just wanted to siphon some water from the town, but it seemed he would have to deal with a lot more than just that.

The police vehicle pulled up into a parking lot, and Harry saw the run-down brick station surrounded by a sea of concrete, but it was far more interesting than the monotony of suburban houses. The two officers carried Harry inside, with Harry still trying to kick at the officers before submitting defeat once he entered the building. Once within the building, Harry's eyes adjusted to the change of scenery. It was darker inside, with the lingering smell of coffee pervading the place. The three were greeted by a blonde, plump woman with bright red lips scribbling away notes at her desk, which was stacked with various files and folders. Upon the desk was a gleaming nameplate: Secretary MacGinnis, which was slightly concealed by the sheer mass of paper and pens piled on top.

She looked up and scanned Harry with a clinical curiosity and then turned her attention to the two officers with an aloof countenance.

"Hello Officers, who is this?" she had a soft and lively voice, which did not meet to her tired, sunken eyes.

"We found this chap wandering the streets of Wickham. We suspected he was a runaway and when we caught up with him, he made a run for it. Of course, not fast enough. We just need missing child reports to confirm this.

"Alright, I'll send the paperwork. In the meantime, it's best to inform Deputy Brooke about this incident. More and more runaways are ending up here and it might be on the news soon. I hate press," the secretary scowled, "please follow me."

Past the secretary desk, there was a narrow corridor with a mucky Persian carpet. The woman lead Harry and the Officers, and in a brief time, all had arrived at their destination at the front of the Deputy's office.

The plump woman had knocked on the sturdy door and tapped her foot impatiently during the brief wait. The frilly, ivory curtains in the window of the door were parted for a second, showing an elderly woman with a phone in hand on the other side. She had her finger up and mouthed, 'one second,' at the secretary. The curtains were drawn again to hide what was behind the door and the woman with it, presumably Deputy Brooke herself.

"Eh, Chap, say I never caught your name?" The English officer spoke to Harry for the first time since Harry's capture.

Harry stumbled for a very brief second, wracking his brain for a replacement,"Derek. My name is Derek." He was willing to make up as much as he can in order to avoid the clutches of the Dursleys.

"Nice meeting you, Derek," The English officer furrowed his eyes with a distant expression on his face, deep within meddlesome thoughts, "say─"

"We have to go, lunch break just started," the other officer interrupted. Then he turned to Harry, "good luck, and hopefully we might see each other in the future, but not in crime, okay?" The American officer emphasized the 'crime' part while Harry simply nodded.

Both of the officers made brief farewells and went in another room of the station.

The door creaked and rubbed against the dirty black carpet when it was opened by a woman, this time, with no phone in hand. Harry cringed at the sound of the door and at his future fate beyond it.

"Why hello to you, how is everything today, and who is this?" She spoke with a rough voice.

"As usual," replied the secretary. She had a moping expression briefly, but it was replaced, again, with a blank expression. "This boy here," she pointed at Harry, "is Derek. Two of our officers brought him in after finding him in the streets."

"Thank you," the secretary had nodded at the Deputy and Harry, and then walked away, likely, to her desk to finish paperwork. Deputy Brooke then, focused her attention on Harry, "Please come on in," she smiled and bent down towards Harry, "I have some sweets, do you want one?"

"Sure?" Harry shrugged.

He went in, immediately overwhelmed by the smell of cigarettes. Low and behold, there was a cigarette still alight, which the Deputy then smothered out immediately.

"Sorry about that," she mumbled.

Deputy Brooke showed Harry to her small candy bowl and Harry picked out a mystery flavored lolly, then he sat down on the nearest chair.

Truthfully, he wouldn't have minded any sweets since Dudley always stole them from him, especially during Halloween, and he hoped it distract him. The lady sat down in her desk chair and brought out some paper and a pen. Harry gulped. He unwrapped the candy and put it in his mouth, tasting the artificial strawberry flavor then clenched the wax paper in his warm and sweaty hand.

"I am Deputy Brooke, and I would like to ask you some questions. It is my job, of course," she amusedly noted. "So, let's start with your name once again."

"D-Derek," he shuffled uncomfortably. The strawberry tasted sour in his mouth.

"How do you spell it?"

"Um, D-E-R-E-K."

"Last name?"

"Smith."

"How old are you?"

"Ten, but will be eleven soon," he realized that he didn't even know what day it was, so he glanced around the room and saw a calendar on the wall. It was the twenty-third of June.

"Getting comfy in my office?," he saw that the Deputy narrowed her eyes as she wrote down the information.

"It's a nice office, I guess," Harry shrugged.

"Derek," Harry flinched at the unfamiliar name, "judging by your current state," her eyes traveled up and down at Harry's disheveled appearance, "it seems that you put up a fight with the officers, correct?

"Possibly?"

"However, because you didn't cooperate with the officers, you could spend a night─or two in the cell." Harry's eyes widened at that," but, I'm willing to be flexible on this manner. If you tell me exactly what happened, I'll only let you off with a warning and nothing will go on paper."

"Oh, okay," he didn't feel that assured. "My mother's side of the family," he began," kicked me out of their home. I-"

"Tell me their names and address, so it can be dealt with properly," she said objectively," I will hand you over to Child Protective Services, and you will be put in an orphanage in the meantime."

"Meantime?" Harry repeated in confusion.

"Oh yes, it could be that you will be returned to your caretakers if there is no evidence to suggest they abandoned you," Harry was liking her less and less, "so their names and address?"

"They, um, are the Smiths," Harry knew that by now, the Dursleys would have destroyed all the evidence. They had the connections and were just enough crazy to do it. "I only know what street they live on, not the number, sorry," he looked up at the ceiling.

The woman sighed a little. She looked very annoyed, and Harry thought that, perhaps, she felt like he was wasting her time; he could sympathize with her on that regard, but he just couldn't go back. She wouldn't understand that.

"They live in Magnolia Street, of Little Whinging."

The address was too close to the Dursleys, but not close enough for him to get shoved back with them. Mr. Dursley would murder him this time if he ever came back.

It was a compromise. Since, Smith was a very common family name, and the investigation would eventually close, preventing them to blame on Harry as the runaway. Now, Harry would be free to live elsewhere, away from them. Anywhere was good, even the orphanage.

"Pardon me while I make a few calls," Deputy Brooke had turned away from Harry and opened her phone book, flipping through the pages to find the numbers. She punched in a number and then dialed on the machine.

"Hello, this is Deputy Brooke from West Wickham Police Department. We have a runaway ten-year-old boy with us. He needs relocation to an orphanage. Can you contact the local orphanages for a vacant spot?"

There were some muffles from the phone. The Deputy sat at her desk and wrote names on a slip of paper.

"Mmhmm," she hummed and in response, there were more muffles from the phone, "Of course," Harry was so bored, waiting for her to end her call. "Okay," she twirled the phone line around her finger, "uhuh. Thank you, sir, for your time, and have a wonderful day." The phone clanged when she placed it back on the machine. "Derek, can you give this slip of paper to my secretary? I have to make more calls, but she will be able to help you out until they arrive."

"Yes," Harry's mouth twitched. _Which direction was the front of the building again?_

"Oh, how silly of me, I see you don't know the building well," she proclaimed with a fake-saccharine voice. "That way."

He nodded then left the room, shutting the door behind him. He felt a little light-headed from the cigarette smell back in the Deputy's office and was happy to be in the presence of faint coffee instead. Then he went into the direction that the Deputy said was the right away. Trampling over the dirty Persian carpet once again, he found his way to the front and handed the folded piece of paper to the secretary. The secretary had read the writing that extended on the page, and Harry peeked over her shoulder, trying for a last attempt at reading it, but all he saw were blurry shapes of ink.

"You are very dirty, let me show you to the showers and it also looks like you need some new clothes." The secretary darted her eyes away from the paper and walked towards a new hallway in where Harry tagged along.

"I have some stuff back in the town town, are they going to let me get it back?" He spoke up.

"It depends, but somewhat likely, yes."


	3. Reconnaissance

**Disclaimer** : I am not affiliated in any way with the Harry Potter franchise nor the great author, J.K Rowling! This story was just created for fun, not to impersonate the lovely author herself.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Reconnaissance**

It was a morning, when an elderly man was reading a note with great concentration while huddling over his desk. Not even his phoenix, perched on the window of the antiquated office, had dared to interrupt him. He stroked his very long silver beard, and his blue eyes framed with normally clear half-moon glasses, was as of now, fogged with the sweat of worry. He took his glasses and wiped the fog off of it and then grabbed the newspaper off of his desk. Deciding to look for any signs of turmoil, he scanned the newspaper for any report of what he read in his letter, but the moving pictures and words only insinuated the latest deceit from the Ministry. They did not know, _yet_. He let the newspaper plop on his cluttered desk and turned his attention back to the real dilemma he did not want to face. Looking down on the crinkled note with a shaky sigh, he read the report once again.

ᕔ _,_

 _Harry Potter is missing. I came to take my turn guarding the house on Privet Drive, but when I came over, I noticed that the wards were down. The home is vacant, and it seemed that it was as if the family was in a hurry to leave. The Dursley family and Harry Potter must have left._

 _It doesn't seem that his followers were involved since there are no signs of dark magic within the house nor was there any signs of trespass, but it does not mean that the family was not provoked. It seems, at this point, that the odds of finding Harry is very minuscule without intervention from the muggle government and the ministry. It is your decision whether to get the muggle police and ministry aurors involved._

 _-_ Ϡ

There was a knock on the door. Albus quickly hid his letter in a drawer and abruptly rose from his weathered throne.

"Come on in." The elderly man boomed.

The head professors of Hogwarts's four houses had entered the office.

"Please, have a seat," he summoned four chairs to appear right before him, and the professors sat down.

"Albus, you have been isolating yourself in this room for far too long. What is going on?" She spoke with a Scottish accent, bearing the crest of a lion on her robes.

"It seems that they have gone missing," Albus replied with an aloof expression.

"They?" A very short man with the crest of a raven furrowed his brow in confusion.

"Harry Potter and the Dursleys are not in Privet Drive."

Three of them shown signs of worry, while the fourth sneered. Headmaster Dumbledore could have gone inside the mind of the Slytherin Professor, to hear a snarky comment such as, ' _The old crook surely must have made great plans in regard of Harry Potter_.' That was the nature of Severus Snape, after all.

Worry was not of Dumbledore's natural temperament, for positive thinking was a preferred mindset. However, the news would not bode well for the others, and he was the only one to give it, hence his recent withdrawal into his office.

"Well, are the Dursleys and Potter unharmed?" The Scottish lady snapped.

The headmaster spoke with great trepidation. "The disappearance of Mr. Potter and the Dursleys is very troubling. We don't know where they are."

If words and sound could be explosive, the office would have a eruption, leaving behind a gaping hole. The professors argued with one and another, though they were mostly shouting at Headmaster Albus Dumbledore as well. The heat of the outburst had simmered down but the professors' latent passion to murder the Headmaster still lingered in their eyes.

"Gone?" A woman with a badger crest had a horrified expression on her face.

"Had the Dark Lord's followers taken part in the disappearance of Potter and the Dursleys?" Professor Snape blankly stared at Dumbledore.

Even the stunted Professor, Head of Ravenclaw, crossed his arms and sighed in a huff. They were all upset with Albus in one fashion or another.

"There are no traces of Dark Magic within the empty house. We can assume nothing, though it is interesting that the tracking charms are broken. Due to this great mystery, the Order of the Phoenix has been reconstituted. I called for the order to aid in tracking the Dursleys and the boy, and as we speak. I-" The Headmaster was cut off.

"Albus, if Potter and his family aren't found," the plump woman with the badger crest lingered.

"Pomona, they _will_ be found. The order will make sure of that. Soon." The twinkling eye of the Headmaster was long gone in the discussion. "As for now, we can wait. The four of you should return to your duties. I hear that the first-years coming this fall will be an interesting group." The headmaster stood up to show them the door, not wanting to continue the conversation at hand.

The last thing he needed was doubt, for only hope is the key to a more brighter future.

"Albus, I told you that muggle family was no good for the boy. How were you able to reconstitute the Order in such a short notice? It is preposterous!" Professor McGonagall burst out of the room in disgust. The Head Professors of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had stormed off in the same manner as well. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had waved his hand and the door slammed itself shut.

It was bound to be on the papers the next morning, when the rumors would start about what happened to Harry Potter and the Dursleys. The Headmaster had to keep on wraps and quickly amend the situation. Unfortunately, news like this never stays hidden very long, especially if one has the influence and money to find out. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, would be a new hurdle he would have to face. He'd have to send an owl to explain why there was a sudden shortage of floo powder missing, trailing to muggle London, and that, was not something he wanted to do. He had his own influence on some of the aurors and it may be enough to steer away Fudge, but that was unlikely. Someone in the Ministry would find out and then, the secret will be plastered all over the news.

Severus Snape stayed behind, and he acted as if the Potter and Dursleys incident was of everyday occurrence. An outsider would have pointed his or her finger at the man, and cried 'Traitor.' Albus knew better that the Potions professor had nothing to do with the incident.

"I bring additional concerning news, with more impediment than of the spawn of Potter," spat the oily-haired Slytherin.

Albus Dumbledore usually would have called out on Snape's insolent behavior. However, the expression of him quieted the Headmaster.

"Yes?" Albus Dumbledore was flummoxed. "What news?"

The potion professor rolled up the long sleeve of his robe while staring intently at the Headmaster. It used to be a faded, weathered mark, however the shades were more striking as if this was a fresh tattoo once again. The oily, slimy green and black ink bled into his forearm, depicting a skull and intertwining snakes. It was the Death Eater's mark.

"The Dark Lord is weak, but certainly alive. It was only this morning when I felt the mark. It perplexes me that coincidentally the mark appeared when Potter had vanished." Snape had a countenance that rarely showed emotion. Ideal for a man with a career of spying.

Dumbledore did not speak. He only quickly looked upon the abomination that was on Snape's forearm, turning away from Voldemort's mark, to ponder over what he should do. The old man walked by his window, petting his Phoenix with a plume of striking, fiery reds.

The incident with just the boy's disappearance was already stressful. However, with the volatile combination of both Potter _and_ Voldemort, it in turn, contributed to an entirely new level of disaster. The controversy would be the type to appear on the front page of _The Prophet_. Written by Rita Skeeter herself, the nastiest of all reporters, local wizards in Diagon Alley would be in complete outrage. Fudge would have to deal with the incident himself, and Dumbledore needed some more control. Political power only in the hands of Fudge, a fool himself, would only lead to the danger of innocents' lives. Fudge could not be trusted, and Dumbledore was to make sure that he constantly challenged him. As with during the times before Grindelwald had rose to power, Harry's disappearance and the appearance of Voldemort could be the keg powder of Europe. It could not happen, not again.

History could repeat itself, as it had countless times, however, the future may not be set in stone if Dumbledore could help it.

"Thank you, Severus. You may attend back to your duties as the Potions Professor. I must ponder over this but you will hear more from me soon," the Headmaster waved his hand in dismissal.

Severus Snape's black robes billowed as he left the office and shut the door behind him, back to the dungeons,where he came from.

Deep within thought, Dumbledore planned carefully how he would deal with the situation on hand. Rita Skeeter and the rest of the Ministry could not know the truth. If they knew, then the Ministry could become a equivalent of a dictatorship in one swift motion. It was a great irony, as the ministry was first designed to fend off Dark Wizards and possible dictatorships. He could handle having the Wizard public knowing about Harry's disappearance, but not of the rise of Voldemort. Cornelius Fudge would only deny such allegations and Dumbledore would lose his position, preventing him from saving them all. It was all for the greater good, in the end, after all.

"Fawkes, I need you to send a message."

The Phoenix chirped.

Taking a slip of Parchment, the Headmaster scrawled a note back to the sender.

"Cornelius may have some eyes and ears within the Auror ranks, but so do I. Whatever it takes, the news of Voldemort or Harry's disappearance will not appear in the Prophet," Dumbledore mumbled, not really sure if he was reassuring himself or Fawkes.

Ϡ _,_

 _Send a message quickly if you hear of anything concerning the Potter and Dursleys._

 _Keep an eye out for any signs of their whereabouts and who is involved._

 _Sincerely,_

ᕔ

He rolled up the parchment and sealed it with candle wax. As wise as the old man was, he charmed the seal to only break for its intended eyes.

The seal wasn't blank but had a peculiar, but mostly unrecognizable symbol:

ᗖ

The bird open its claws up, then snatched the sealed roll. Soon, there are a burst of flames, and the Phoenix was gone.

Albus Dumbledore went back to pacing in his office. It wasn't just the disappearance of a boy with magic and a funny looking scar, it was the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived. Not only that, but also Voldemort was no standard Dark Lord; he was dangerous, and if he rose again, the Wizarding world, as it was known, would end. Only chaos and anarchy would be lead by a crazy man with dangerous influence.

The raven-haired boy was missing. It was his fault for not checking on the boy more. However, what was in the past, is in the past. The only thing to do now was to be patient and hope that Voldemort had not already gotten to the boy.

Dumbledore's mantra was to have optimism, and expect things to be sorted out in the end. However, doubt had crept to the Headmaster, and the uncertainty was taking its toll. He moved to the window again, waiting for his familiar to bring news, although his mind was lingering towards the dilemma of having the boy missing.

"Where are you Harry?" whispered the old headmaster.

* * *

The moon hanged high, accompanying many twinkling stars in an otherwise empty sky. It was almost peaceful except for the disturbance of a flyer in the middle of the night. A tawny barn owl was gliding in the air, like it was taking a brief pause from flying ferociously for its furry meal. However, any wizard would have seen a string and rolled up scroll to know that the owl was not searching for a meal, but rather a person. The owl was a messenger, and its owner was eager to give the message to the sender as soon as possible. It flew fast, but not fast enough.

 _Clink_. A green light of some sorts enveloped the owl.

The owl was so entranced with heading to its destination, it never noticed the blond man staring back at it intensely, with a raised, polished stick in hand. Falling now, the bird could make out a man with very long blond hair, pale skin, and eyes of steel. The tawny owl submitted to the charm and became unconscious.

Lucius Malfoy was patient. He waited for this particular owl in order to intercept any message with anything to do with Harry Potter. Usually, he would make his house elf do this peasant tedious work, but he could not afford a slip up. His master, although frail, would be very pleased to find that his nemesis would be defeated, and any and all information before his return would be vital for rise. This owl in particular looked nothing out of the ordinary, but attached to its claw, was a letter with a peculiar crest with hastily created charms.

ᗖ

Whatever the message was, it was not for any prying eyes and it was sent urgently. Luckily for Lucius, his experience in the previous wizarding war had gave him skills, especially the kind for spying and charm work. The seal was made with great haste and inefficiency: the work of an average wizard. Lucius Malfoy had pointed his wand on the seal and focused.

" _Alohomora Duo._ " Malfoy whispered.

The waxy bland seal had curled and folded. The paper had unbound to reveal its contents.

ᕔ _,_

 _Harry Potter is missing. I came to take my turn guarding the house on Privet Drive, but when I came over, I noticed that the wards were down. The home is vacant, and it seemed that it was as if the family was in a hurry to leave. The Dursley family and Harry Potter must have left._

 _It doesn't seem that his followers were involved since there are no signs of dark magic within the house nor was there any signs of trespass, but it does not mean that the family was not provoked. It seems, at this point, that the odds of finding Harry is very minuscule without intervention from the muggle government and the ministry. It is your decision whether to get the muggle police and ministry aurors involved._

 _-_ Ϡ

Lucius Malfoy was pleased, finally there was some news of interest. As of now, he knew where that drat Potter boy, and his mudblood family lived-wherever this Privet Drive was. Malfoy was an already influential man who could easily organize a raid upon the household and search for information in regards to the whereabouts of the mudbloods and the _Prize_. It was the time to call for old friends and relive the old days of excitement. The days of the Dark Lord's reign.

Of course, the Headmaster must not know that someone intercepted the message. Lucius had quickly copied the letter with a handy charm and stuffed the copy into his robe pocket.

" _Reparo._ "

The waxy seal that once was sealed once more. It was as if none had touched the wax. Lucius turned towards the bird. If any other bird had shown up to the window of Hogwarts, then there would only be suspicion. Lucius Malfoy was a man of caution; a Slytherin. While other death eaters would have simply not let the owl continue its journey, the blonde man had seen the fallacy of that decision. In comparison to the enemy not knowing about the brat's disappearance briefly, but knowing that the enemy is watching, or where there is no suspicion from the enemy that the Dark Lord's followers know, it was not hard to make the decision to play the silent game. The enemy would receive this letter, but their guard would be down too, an advantage. Then he could snatch the boy under the nose of Dumbledore and the Light wouldn't even know. Once captured, he would decide whether to end the boy's pitiful existence or to raise the half-blood in the ways of the Malfoys. For now, he had to first find the boy before they do.

Lucius Malfoy had the re-rolled and re-stamped the parchment in hand. He turned his attention to the stiff tawny bird in the dirt. Then, taking out his wand, Lucius had pointed it at the bird.

" _Obliviate!_ " Lucius had been careful to only remove the memories of the bird crossing with him.

The owl would assume it had taken a little nap, if it remembered anything at all the ordeal. Lucius had tied the letter to the claws of the creature in its deep slumber. Then, the blonde man had slipped behind a boulder, away from the eyes of the bird.

" _Episkey_." Its eyes had opened, and its claws clutching the scroll even tighter.

The bird had gotten right up and flew into the sky to send the message. The tawny barn owl was oblivious of what had even happened.

Lucius Malfoy had apparated back to the confines of his mansion. With his dazzling wife and child tucked away in slumber, he made his move. He did, after all, have a meeting with some politician, but no one had to know when he would get back. He had gone to his home office and conjured up a Lumos spell.

"Dobby!" snarled Lucius.

"Yes Master?"The small house elf had popped into the office. His voice was small, suiting his timid personality.

"Fetch me some parchment, quill and ink."

"If it pleases Master." Dobby disappeared in a flash.

It was only a couple of seconds later when many sheets of parchment, an ink bottle and a primed feather were on his desk. There was a flash of Dobby bowing to his master. Lucius Malfoy made a gesture that he wished of no more that evening from the little house elf, and Dobby had disappeared once more, to his quarters.

Lucius had made many letters to his good friends of dark families. He needed sympathy from them so they would join in the hunt for the bane of his lord. From these letters, there was one of particular importance: the Malfoy himself had spent extra care to write this letter with extra precision.

 _Murchadh,_

 _Your knowledge and expertise is needed. The grant is 100 galleons if you are interested. Respond quickly for further information on this assignment._

 _Helleborus,_

 _Lucius Malfoy_

Lucius Malfoy, a man with high standing had no need to remember anything from muggle studies. It was more suited for a man like Murchadh to deal with the Potter boy, but he needed all the help he could get with the dark families knowing the situation; Lucius could simply wait and toast with a glass of firewhiskey, knowing that Dumbledore and his crude friends had failed. His master would rise once more and purge the world of mudbloods, and he would have a promotion, granting future Malfoys greater status and influence. More power to his side. He cast a reducio charm upon all the letters he wrote and gave the bundles to his owl. The owl systematically sent the letters to its intended receivers. Anyone suspicious of the large amount of letters would have thought the Malfoy was having a dinner party of some sorts.

It was the perfect trap.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _I know those characters are from language(s) native to North America, but I have decided to use them as identifiers of the members who are in the Order of the Phoenix._

 _As established:_

ᕔ = Albus Dumbledore

ᗖ = The Order of the Phoenix

Ϡ = An unknown member that was reporting to Albus Dumbledore

 _Helleborus is commonly recognized as the Christmas Rose and is also known as an allusion for sports and games during the Victorian Age._


	4. Oliver with a New Twist

**Disclaimer** : I am not affiliated in any way with the Harry Potter franchise nor the great author, J.K Rowling ! This story was just created for fun, not to impersonate the lovely author herself.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Oliver with a New Twist**

* * *

Harry was not in West Wickham anymore.

Instead, he was sitting in the back of a police car while the American and Wickham pair drove him to London. Despite what the Secretary had said, the rest of his stuff was not searched for in the abandoned building, and they even taken away the rest of his possessions, citing that they were 'potential stolen goods,' so Harry only had his glasses left. He knew those, too, were stolen, so during the escort, he hid away his glasses in his pocket in fear that he would be blind as a bat again.

 _Typical adults who keep meddling in his life._ Harry's thoughts drifted away from that frustration and shifted to the reality of how he ended up in the back of a police car. _How did this even happen?_

It is strange that only two days ago, Harry was living with the Dursleys. Then suddenly, the fight happened and his whole life had changed─whether for the worse or not, he did not know. Something ticked off Dudley, and because Harry defended himself, the Dursleys threw him into an cleared alleyway like he was some unwanted dog. Harry had planned to get away from the Dursleys for quite some time, but it was only a dream at that point. Harry had not meant to actually leave the Dursleys because he had no idea what he could even do. He would not admit it to himself, but he was scared of leaving.

Fear kept him in Privet Drive. It was the same fear as well as ambition that gave Harry his quick wits and tongue, and it helped him survive this long.

But he felt liberated. No more being a punching bag by the beach ball in the Dursley household, no more swings of a cooking pan by Petunia, nor the swats of the belt from Vernon. No more long hours toiled by the garden and household doing chores made that Harry feel worn out, and no more feeling the pains of hunger stretching out days, because of stupidity. _He was free_ ─ _to live in another cage._

Whatever was at the Orphanage, surely it was better than how the Dursleys treated him. Harry knew of the horror stories from the system, just as many children would be sometimes threatened by their parents when they misbehaved. _Even if it's just another cage_ , he thought. He knew there was a risk, but it was worth it.

"Hey, Derek, welcome to your new home," the policeman stumbled upon Harry's alias.

There it was about a block away. He pressed his face against the window glass and gazed at a large stony building with a huge black fencing. _How dreary._ If buildings could have auras, Harry felt that it was bleak, like a dullish gray, and perhaps even depressing. _Maybe the true atmosphere of the Orphanage was within the structure itself, and not of its exterior._

The police car had stopped at the gates. At the left side of the gates was an intercom system. Paul lowered down his window and pressed the big gray button. White noise was emitted for a while until a voice of a squeaky woman came on.

"Newcomer, eh? I'll open the gates for you," the gates started opening. "Walk through to the main foyer, and you will meet Madam Lefebvre." The the intercom was shut off, and the tar-black gates opened up wide.

The police car entered into the old parking lot, and parked into a spot among many.

Apparently, there were very few visitors on that particular day, if any at all. The officers and Harry had walked towards the entrance. Harry noticed how the doors were dented and worn out, especially when they screeched open. Once inside, the first thing noticed by Harry was how the oak hardwood flooring was shiny and squeaky. _Not so bad._ The walls were a light yellow, aging, but certainly cheerful, and there was a large old staircase laid out in the middle of the main room. Though, the details were fuzzy since he put away his glasses in his pocket.

A woman with graying hair came down the creaky stairs. She had a red cane in her left hand, and a key in the right. Her peppered hair of dull brown and silver was tucked snugly into a tight bun. Madam Lefebvre wore a clean and professional-styled navy blue dress, though she seemed snobbish with her neat nails and overuse of makeup. Harry started to hear his heartbeat thumping while he sweated. The place was _too_ clean, and the Madam herself seemed like a neat prick as well based on her appearance. It seemed as if there were really strict rules in place, because not one sound came from upstairs, nor were there any sounds of children playing. _Maybe he was wrong and those horror stories were true, and the Dursleys were nicer. If only he hadn't thrown that punch back…_

"Welcome to Alcott Orphanage. I am Madam Lefebvre, the head. Our lovely co-owner, Ms. Pritchard, will be here shortly to help with any paperwork. If you two gentlemen do not mind, I will show the boy to his room." Her accent is of french origin, and it almost clashed with her weary voice. Between the smoothness of the language against the harshness of her voice, it did sound like a horrible paradox. _This woman screams fake,_ Harry frowned. The officers sat in two seats where the woman had motion them towards. Harry made a last glance at the officers before he followed the woman upstairs. She oddly enough, didn't use her cane to aid in her movement.

 _Creak. Creak. Creak._

It was too quiet. Where were the other children? No sounds of laughter were booming among the thin walls, and the place almost seemed as if no one was living there.

On the second floor, there was only one spare room, Room 256. _It must be his room_. Madam Lefebvre took the brass key and inserted it into the barren door. When the door opened, he found that there was very little inside the room. The walls were white and the wooden flooring was very worn compared to the bright oak in the hallway. There was a window, cabinet, old iron radiator, and a bunker bed to fill in the empty place. It was absolutely better than a cupboard, but still very small and bleak.

Harry felt pride that he finally had a room and it was not a cupboard. He sat down on his bed taking in the sights, also wondering who was sleeping in the other bed.

"I assume you can read, darling?" Her voice was dull.

"Yes." replied Harry. _As long as he didn't have to write._

"There are rules for all that live within this residence," She handed him a piece of rolled parchment, as well as his key. Through the slight bleeding of ink through the parchment, the green-eyed boy could see it was a very long list. The french lady's tone quickly turned ice-cold, "if you are found breaking these rules, do not expect light punishments. I best be off downstairs helping Ms. Pritchard with your papers. Your roommate will bring you new belongings." Harry raised an eyebrow, _so he did have a roommate_.

The old woman turned towards the door, but then abruptly stopped, "say child, pray tell your name."

"Ha─Derek Smith, madam." Harry stumbled on his fabricated name.

It seemed that the woman was missing a few screws in the head, and it was best be not to provoke her in any way possible. He quickly learned in the Dursley household how to react around unstable people, and his Uncle had the misfortune of being of them.

"Humpf," Madam Lefebvre had pranced away from the room, and closed Harry's door. He could hear the head descending down the creaky staircase. Harry sat down on the lower bed, though he was not sure which bed was his. He took out the square glasses from his pocket and put them on. He could see much more clearly.

"Pst! Hello Derek." It was a boy's voice.

At the crack of Harry's door, there was a chubby boy with sandy blonde hair. He had coffee brown eyes, and an expression plastered all over his face screaming 'troublemaker.'

"Are you my roommate?" Harry was direct, but kept a cool expression. He had no idea if this boy was friend or foe.

"Yes I am, and that's my bed," Cody snickered. Harry got off the bed and stood, holding the paper in his hand. My name is Cody. Me and the rest of the second floor sneaked to the playground. Want to join us?" He sounded sincere.

"I'm not sure. I need to figure out how to get my stuff." Harry was conflicted over having fun or staying in case Madam Lefebvre came back. Normally, he would have jumped for the moment, but his new caretakers were unpredictable.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll get you all set later. Don't be such a twat. Madam Leffy always scares the newcomers with the rules. If you get out of her hair, she will not cross yours. What's the worst that can happen?" Harry was giving Cody credit for trying hard.

"Okay. Where is this playground?" _Having a little fun may not be so bad after all._

"It's three blocks away. Follow me!" Cody was careful in keeping the door from creaking. Harry followed him, and still being cautious, locked his room.

Past the super-clean hardwood floors, they made way to Room 224. Cody pulled out a key and then unlocked the door. Then Cody took out his key, and made a wedge in the floorboards. Three of them popped off easy. Harry was shocked, seeing a hole in the floor.

"It's a well-known secret over all the boys in this floor. Don't tell Madam Leffy or Ms. Pritchy if you are smart enough." admonished Cody.

Harry only nodded.

The two boys went inside of a pitch-black passageway within the floor. There were no lights and many cobwebs, though Harry didn't mind, as after all, he grew up with spiders in his tiny cupboard. After climbing in the hole, Harry could see a faint light in the distance. Cody somehow wedged the floorboards back into place from Room 224.

"Come on, Derek. I know it's a bit dark, but can't you see the other side?" Cody turned away from the entrance.

"I see it. Three blocks you say?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, three blocks. It's bloody great and Madam Leffy never knows we are gone!" Harry could tell Cody was smiling, even in the pitch-black.

After sifting through the cobwebs and the dark, Harry could see there was a thin crack that let out light. Harry could hear a scratching noise, and then makeshift wall was opened from the inside. The broken part of the wall was hidden in some shrubbery. Any passersby would never see how the boys enter and leave the orphanage besides through the front door. Cody again showed Harry the way, and then covered the wall haphazardly.

"You have to show me sometime how to get a key to that room." Harry stated.

"Maybe." The blonde boy had a mischievous countenance.

"Where do we go?" Harry shrugged.

"This way!" Cody started to run off towards a street.

Harry kept up with Cody. Eventually, the roguish boy slowed down a bit. Two blocks left. During the time walking, the boys had opened up to each other. Both found that they had some things in common and the chatter became serious quickly.

"My cousin was a lousy one. He had a girlfriend the last I remember; ran off with her into the sunset so to speak when he was ready to leave. I heard she got knocked up," chuckled Cody. He turned to Harry, and had an amusing expression. "Do you know any of your cousins?"

"My cousin is mad. Resembles a giant beach ball. He calls it 'Harry Hunting', when he feels like giving me a punch. Harry had a face of disgust. "I-"

"Hairy hunting? Does he smear dog hair all over you or something?" Cody asked.

"Harry is my-" Harry stopped himself. He carefully chosen his words, hoping his new-found friend hadn't noticed the slip up. "...like I said, Cousin is mad."

"Why would he call you Harry? You don't look a bit hairy to me."

"No," Harry snickered. "Anyway, he usually throws the punch at me for no reason. Then comes my aunt angry that I hurt her poor son."

"That's sound pathetic." Cody interjected.

"Yeah, well, somehow my Uncle and Aunt thought that I became some freak they needed to leave by the road or something... They shoved a bag at me, and told me to pack quickly."

Cody looked at him seriously.

"They left me in some alley. I walked for hours and hours until some police officers found me. That's how I ended up at the station, and the Deputy placed me in this orphanage."

Harry sighed. No point in hiding that.

He could have said 'None of your business,' but something about that golden boy made Harry tell what happened. There were some feelings of anxiousness, and doubt whether it was the right time or place to divulge such a secret.

Cody nodded. It was no light confession. Both were quiet for a bit.

In the distance, there was an old playground. Many children, mostly boys, likely from the orphanage were playing various games.

"You need to meet my friends." With the previous conversation pushed aside, Cody had a gaping smile.

The two boys ran in the playground. A summer day with many rays, it was no wonder all the orphans didn't want to be cooped up in the Orphanage. There were many boys with old hand-me-downs. Some of the boys were only barely past the age of their toddler years while others were almost old enough to hold a job. All had sneaked out of the orphanage, with no sense of responsibility. Careless and free.

"Yo, Chip and Zafar! Meet the new kid, Derek." Cody walked towards two boys.

One was a tall person who looked to be of middle-eastern descent, while the other was a short, pudgy ginger with many freckles. The tall guy seemed a couple of years older than Harry, and had a demeanor that would scare most pranksters away. No one would want to mess with him. The freckled kid seemed timid and shy. It seemed as if the older one was like a bodyguard to the shy ginger. Harry Potter came up to the trio to properly introduce himself and hopefully get on their good side. The tall boy and his friends looked incredibly intimidating, and if possible to have them as an ally, Harry would be fortunate.

"Hi, my name is Derek." Harry took out his hand to shake theirs.

"Chip" said the pudgy ginger. He shook hands with Harry.

"I don't trust you." Presumably Zafar was the tall one. He gave Harry a nasty glare.

Harry frowned at that, "You barely know me as I barely know you. It's not fair to judge me if you don't know how I act," defended Harry.

"Very well, but don't think I am not keeping an eye on you. Harm this Blondie or my Ginger friend, you are not going to have a happy time here." The middle-eastern kid softened. "My name is Zafar."

Harry and Zafar shook hands.

Zafar was a harsh and very cold kid. Harry was wondering what the tall kid had a problem with. It was as if Zafar had a personal problem or something with Harry, but he never met—or had he? It was very strange. There was no Dudley Dursley that made Zafar hostile, but only Harry himself had created that accordance. If the social climate in the Orphanage was harsh, then there was an understanding of Zafar's actions. Harry would just have to find out later.

The four of the boys played. Obviously, there was distance between Zafar and Harry, and the rest of the orphans were not very accepting of Harry. It was nice of them to let Harry take part, and the green-eyed boy never had friends in Privet Drive. The culprit of Harry's lack of a social life was of a family. The Dursleys. There were a variety of games, and after playing for many hours, the orphans were tired and hungry. It was dinner time very soon. All of them seemed to have skipped lunch, if the orphanage even served it.

The sun was starting to set. The boys had started to walk towards the Orphanage, three blocks ahead. It was a strange miracle that the orphans were almost invisible, and none of the drivers they passed by had taken real notice that a mob of young juveniles had no adult supervision. There were many Londoners that walked on foot to get to their destinations. In other essence, the boys were just a group of many within the busy streets of the great English city. After the three blocks had passed, the group of orphans waddled their way to the secret passage. One boy apparently had coined it as the 'Thrifty Way', but most of the boys laughed it off as a ridiculous name. The rumor goes that the term was accepted as an unofficial name, but it truly is inane. A short and beefy boy had opened the passageway shrouded by the foliage and shrubbery. Harry Potter could barely see the method in how the crack was opened. All the boys went tumbling inside quickly to not alert any pedestrians and drivers. All the boys were in darkness for a bit, climbing to the second floor, and it was a miracle that the co-owners never noticed the children gone, _or had they_?

At the other side, the boys could make out the light. Another boy had volunteered to thrust in the key to open the floorboards. Tumbling out of the floor inconspicuously as they could, all the boys fell out and went into their rooms to freshen up before dinnertime. The door was soon covered in dust and dirt from the dirty feet and what else came from the floorboard. Using his key, Harry had unlocked his door, made an unofficial wave at his new-found friends and went into the room. Cody went to get his new stuff.

"What a strange day.." Harry mumbled.

Dirty as he was, he changed into fresh clothes similar to the kind he worn today when Cody came back. Madam Lefebvre would never notice even the glasses that he wore suddenly and she's too strict with her rules anyways. _The rules._ Harry opened the thick bundle, removing the twine and opened it. Inside was very neat and small handwriting.

* * *

 ** _The Rules and Regulations of the Alcott Household_**

 _We, the co-owners, Miss Ceri Pritchard and Madam Élaine Lefebvre ask that all the children of Alcott Orphanage follow all these rules. Failure to comply will be dastardly consequences listed in the following._

 _Be at the breakfast table by 7:00 in mornings. During school days, the time will be pushed to 6:30._

 _Bedtime is at 21:00 sharp._

 _Arrive to dinnertime at 19:00 sharp every night._

 _No horse playing business in front of the owners._

 _Soliciting is forbidden._

 _Flirtation, romance and snogging is not permitted within these walls._

 _Foul language and failure to respect elders is unacceptable._

 _Take care of yourselves. Brush your teeth twice a day, tuck your shirts in your pants, wash your hair regularly and brush it. Bathe regularly and adolescents must wash their faces. If you need sundries such as deodorant please let us know._

 _All clothing must be deemed acceptable. No tears and holes. Low cut tops, high dresses and skirts are not permitted for the ladies. Shoulder straps must be three finger thick at least. For the gentlemen, belts are mandatory, no underwear showing. Spikes, skulls, and unusual hairstyles or colors are not permitted._

 _Adults will not be interrupted while talking._

 _No parading through the lobby. Running outside in large groups while storming through the entrance, dirtying everything is to be avoidable._

 _Proper table manners at the table are required. If you fail to know of this etiquette and are new, then we will pull you aside quietly to teach you._

 _Noise levels must be down. Laughter and running in the hallways are not permitted. We don't want to hear you._

 _Call the adults by our proper names. There will be no name slandering of the caretakers._

 _Bullying is not permitted. Give us evidence and report such behavior. They will be dealt with._

 _Illegal activities, Gangs, and Drugs are not permitted._

 _Stealing and Black Markets are prohibited. We will find out what you are smuggling or stealing. Keep your nimble fingers to yourselves._

 _Pets are not allowed._

 _If you have a religious affiliation or allergy that prevents you from eating a certain food, please let us know. The last thing we need is a kid eating a peanut and jelly sandwich, only to stop breathing. Your health is important to us. If your glass prescription is inadequate, please let us know so we can get funds for it._

 _Summer work and Homeworks must be completed in this household. We take the education of our orphans very seriously. It is expected of our children to be good students with healthy work habits and passion towards their work. Unhealthy work habits and studying is unacceptable within this household. Mandatory attendance in school is required unless of need in medical attention._

 _We expect a very neat and orderly household. It is up to the children on how it must be done, but floors must be beaming, carpets spotless, tables wiped off, clean kitchen and dishes. Laundry must be done by the children to be taught skills when they leave for success. Walls and windows should be washed, and furniture should be dustless. This place is a place for well-behaved youngsters, not scoundrels, keep it that way. Rooms will be inspected regularly. Rooms must be kept clean and organized._

 _If you break these rules within a month. in exception to illegal activities:_

 _The first infraction is a verbal warning._

 _The second infraction is taking away your entertainment. Toys will be taken for a while._

 _The third infraction will be taking away of mealtimes._

 _Fourth infraction will be a spanking._

 _Fifth infraction will be a report to the police._

 _Sixth infraction will be your last. You will either go to a new home, or if the crime is illegal, expect prison._

* * *

Harry read the long list of rules. It was strict, but it seemed better than what the Dursleys could offer. He noticed that there was only five minutes before dinnertime. Putting back rules in the tight bundle it was, Harry grabbed his key and opened the door. Many children were already walking down the stairs.

 _Creak. Rickety. Creak._

Following the other orphans, Harry found himself in a very large room. How they could afford the giant table, Harry would never know. Deputy Brooke done Harry well. In the sea of faces, Harry spotted Cody waving at him to come over.

Harry sat himself down next to Cody and his two other friends. All the orphans were chatting.

"Each floor every three days rotates on who makes the food, who cleans the tables, and who does the dishes. This time, our floor does the dishes." Cody interjected.

"Thanks, Cody." Harry smiled. The boy was very mischievous, but also kind. _Too kind._

The day may have been strange, but Harry had loads of fun. Maybe the orphanage was not so bad, and he could thank Deputy Brooke for placing him in a good home. Life was stable once again, though Harry wouldn't know how to keep his secret of weirdness. He hoped that he wouldn't do strange things, like appearing on roofs at St. Grogory, but it was not guaranteed. Dudley was not there to make him feel insecure, and if the boys and girls within the orphanage left him alone, maybe he could just be _normal_ for once.

For that night, Harry was happy.


End file.
